This is one of a new EMI series of reissues, entitled American
Classics. The artistic line-ups for all these recordings are
virtually self-recommending, if not always quite in the very top
flight. From the first batch, alongside this Bernstein CD, I received
a generally recommendable Gershwin compilation (Slatkin, Rattle
and Previn, 2066282). The other composers in the series are Adams
(2066272), Barber (2066252), Carter (2066292), Copland (2066342),
Ives (2066312), Reich and Glass (2066242), Schuman and Bernstein
(2066112) and Virgil Thomson (2066122). Four of these are advertised
on the inside back cover of the booklet, with a reminder that
they are available as downloads. My experience with EMI downloads,
however, is that they are rarely cheaper than buying the equivalent
mid-price CD – like Universal’s classicsandjazz website, they
seem to have a one-price-fits-all policy – and their download
technology appears to have a considerable number of pitfalls for
Windows Vista users.

In fact, this recording didn’t yet seem to have
found its way onto the EMI downloads site when I tried it, though
the West Side Story Dances were available at what seems
to be the standard EMI price of £7.99 in their earlier Virgin
Classics incarnation.

Slightly perversely, for this reissue EMI have
ignored Järvi’s versions of Facsimile and Prelude, Fugue
and Riffs, generally thought to be the highlights of that
Virgin Classics recording, in favour of the West Side Story
Dances which were not quite so favourably received by at least
one reviewer. Since the Virgin version remains available at around
the same price as this new American Classics CD or slightly less
(3633012) that will remain the version of choice for many, especially
for those who would prefer the Divertimento to the Candide
Overture and the two short vocal pieces which end the new CD.
- I’m not really sure what the point of those short pieces is.

That performance of the Candide Overture
– don’t you just love spell-checkers which keep changing Candide
to candied? – makes a rousing, idiomatic and enjoyable
opening to the new CD. The opera itself may have been a failure,
but the overture has always been a concert favourite and Slatkin’s
performance shows why.

I can’t say that Facsimile is one of my
favourite Bernstein works and Slatkin’s performance didn’t do
much to win me over; I’m prepared to accept that the fault is
probably mine, though I suspect that the Järvi version on Virgin
would have done more to persuade me. The academic-sounding subtitle
gives away its problematic nature – not really a fully-fledged
ballet – and reminds us that Bernstein was a linguistic philosopher
of some repute, as well as a distinguished musicologist.

At times there are in Facsimile echoes of
Stravinsky’s Agon and Apollon Musagète, ‘intellectual’
works which I like very much, but just when I thought I had
connected with the idiom, the terms of reference seemed to change
in a more popular direction. Perhaps Bernstein thought his stated
theme, the post-war lack of direction, was too depressing and
needed to be spiced up, but for me the two different idioms
don’t add up to a whole. The title of Bernstein’s book The
Unanswered Question (Cambridge, MA, 1981) just about sums
up my attitude to Facsimile – both the work and, therefore,
the performance must remain non-proven but you may react more
positively to both. I’m afraid that I have also yet to come
to terms with Bernstein’s symphonies.

The Dances from On the Town are a very different
matter – these are clearly the work of the composer who later
wrote The Joy of Music (New York, 1959), though track
4 (‘Lonely Town’) provides, as it were, a slow movement for
reflection between the two livelier sections. Slatkin’s performance
is thoroughly idiomatic. The liveliness in ‘Times Square’ (tr.5)
is fully brought out – the famous ‘New York, New York’ theme
presented in a variety of guises. This is unashamedly popular
music at its very best and there is none of the marginal holding
back which I found in Slatkin’s account of An American in
Paris on the companion Gershwin CD.

For most prospective purchasers, it is the West
Side Story Dances which will be the deciding factor. The
performance of these started well with an account of the Prologue
which contained just the right element of menace, followed by
a version of Somewhere which laid the emotion on just
a little too thickly. Perhaps it’s just that I always feel slightly
embarrassed at liking the song on which the movement is based
– and it does make an excellent contrast with the jolly menace
of the Prologue (track 7) and the Scherzo which follows.
One reviewer of the original issue thought exactly the opposite,
that Järvi held the emotion back too much, so I may be in a
minority on this one.

If Järvi is a shade too willing to lay on the emotion
in Somewhere, the Scherzo (tr.8) is a little slow
to catch fire, but burns brightly enough when it leads into
the exuberant account of Mambo – no complaints about
this movement (tr.9) or the Rumble (tr.12). The intricacies
of Stay cool, boy, are well negotiated in Chavha
(tr.10) which segues into an excellent version of The Meeting
Scene (tr.11) and the ensuing Rumble. The Finale
opens with just the right amount of wistfulness and closes in
peace. All in all, therefore, it wasn’t such a bad idea to use
the Järvi version of these Dances.

If you want more of West Side Story, highlights
of the original cast recording remain available on mid-price Sony/Columbia
SK60724. Whether you like Bernstein’s own DG recording (see
review) or not will depend on how you react to the operatic
voices of its principals – sample before buying, if you can.

Prelude, Fugue and Riffs was commissioned by Woody
Herman in the 1940s but didn’t receive its first public outing
until 1955, under Benny Goodman. Like the two clarinettists
with whom the work is associated – and like Bernstein himself
– the music treads a fine line between the classical and jazz
idioms which will not be to all tastes. As a lover of both genres,
the music has always had a ready appeal for me and this jazzy
performance does it justice. The un-named soloist may not be
quite in the league of Sabine Meyer on EMI’s own rival Virgin
Classics version, but Simon Rattle has a good sense of the idiom
and the London Sinfonietta are an ideal ensemble for this kind
of superior cross-over music.

Bruce Hubbard is an excellent interpreter of the
Scena but, as I have already indicated, the final two
vocal pieces seem rather pointless interpolations. The note-writer,
Martin Cotton, seems not to have seen the point of them, either:
he merely describes them as reminders of Bernstein’s skill as
a songwriter. Mass is such a complex and dramatic work
that a five-minute excerpt cannot begin to give any idea of
its nature.

The recordings are good or very good throughout
– all digital in provenance. With brief but apposite notes and
attractive presentation, this CD, like the companion Gershwin
recording, will doubtless sell well and deserves to do so. As
with the Gershwin, you probably won’t find all the Bernstein
music that you want here – and you’ll have to accept some duplication
to do so – but I don’t think many purchasers would regret buying
this CD.

I note that there is a similar programme on EMI’s
budget-price Gold label (CDCFP6062), substituting the Chichester
Psalms for Facsimile on the American Classics CD.
I suspect that it may involve the same performers, but EMI seem
to be coy about revealing who the CFP performers are.

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